FIC: Divergence 9/?
Title: Divergence
Rating: Teen (violence, language, adult themes)
Pairing: pre-slash nu!K/S, kid!K/S
Cast: ensemble, plus Pike, W. Kirk, A. Grayson, and nu!versions of TOS random crew
Keywords: long multi-part fic, kid!Spock, kid!Kirk, time travel, badass!crew, epic friendship
Notes: as a fill for this plotty PROMPT from the kink meme.... Spock sneaks out to talk to his mom, Chekov finally makes an appearance, while Pike gets orders from the top regarding his two mysterious detainees
This part had a lot of new scenes not in the original draft done in July-August 09
And OH - a wet-planet observatory is basically a greenhouse but instead of recreating tropical conditions, it recreates the conditions of a planet with a high moisture content, as opposed to Vulcan which is very, very dry. According to book canon, Spock's mom has one of these fancy observatories as she is quite the gardener.
BETA status - jademac2442 did picky, picky read thru karmic_fic suggested the new scenes - i played with it after the beta so if there's any issues, it's my fault
back to: part one / part two / part three / part four / part five / part six / part seven / part eight /
Planet-side: Vulcan, ShiKahr City, year 2246
Spock ascended the winding staircase carved directly from the rocks. It was a familiar path and led to the old Mahr-kel, built high upon this plateau, and had been in his youth, a preferred place of interest. He had fond memories of many languid late afternoons spent here with his parents when he had been very young, following them as they purchased scrolls and paper-bound books. The vendors here were some of the oldest and most respected in the whole ShiKahr and it would have been amiss of him to neglect a visit here. The reason for his visit, Spock admitted with ease, was rather personal, but it was also necessary; one of the mission objectives had been to collect samples and specimens from Vulcan, in preparation for the event that their mission would be a failure and -
Spock stopped abruptly, pivoting back around to face the sight. There was a display on political figures in the last two centuries at a familiar book vendor, in fact - yes. With some hesitation, he came closer and examined several volumes stacked along the middle shelf. It was an anthology of writings by several authors, including several well-known human historians… a biographical account of Ambassador Soval, with a particular focus on his contribution to relations with Earth and participation in the Council of Babel, the inception for the United Federation of Planets. It was… this book… Spock picked it thoughtfully.
My son has never read his works - I was planning on purchasing an anthology for him… a birthday present…
In his time line, he distinctively remembered the anthology being a gift from Mother, given on a day in that had not been significant by Vulcan or Earth’s calendar… he had returned from school, and it had been there, waiting for him upon his study desk. Spock ran a hand along the spine thoughtfully.
“Sulu to Spock. Come in please,” His communicator click-chirped insistently.
Spock put the book down as if he had been burnt and ducked into the alcove doorway of a closed music shop. Checking that no one was paying him attention, he flipped his communicator open. ‘Spock here. Report Lieutenant.’
Lieutenant Sulu’s voice was harsh through the small speakers, panting breaths distorting his words. “We’ve completed collecting the botanical samples in the first list, sir, and the second team has just beamed down.”
‘Excellent.’ He said, pleased that they were ahead of schedule. ‘Proceed with the rest of the collection.’
“Aye-aye sir - will you be returning to the ship, sir?”
Spock turned and gazed upon the book vendor. His purpose in coming here was to purchase certain works for archival purposes, and the anthology…‘Negative, Lieutenant. I am currently occupied with collecting Vulcan cultural artifacts.’
“Understood, sir, do you require any assistance?”
Spock was tempted for a moment to call for Nyota to join him, as her linguistic expertise would certainly be useful in this situation. But no, he reminded himself firmly that she was not cleared for away missions, and that she had joined him in the visit to his ancient home had been anomalous. Spock allowed himself a moment of reluctant gratitude. Yesterday, there had been a moment where his control had been… in need of assistance, which Nyota provided adequately but... no - he should do this alone. ‘Unnecessary, Lieutenant - please inform the transporters to be ready to beam items aboard upon my orders.’
“Yes sir, Sulu out.”
-------
Planet-side: Earth, Starfleet Academy, year 2246
Christopher Pike locked his office door and taking a deep measured breath, tucked the datapad securely under his arm. He wasn’t sure what this meant yet, the DNA matches, the physician who wasn’t where he was supposed to be, the young man named “Jim”, the Starfleet training but someone had to be told, the only problem was who.
The Bolian yeoman hurried over, his thick bushy eyebrows drawn in a frown. ‘Sir, there’s a -‘
‘Not now, Naido.’ Pike said tersely.
Reading his face, the yeoman gave a startled nod and got the hell out of his way.
Pike headed for the nearest stairs, ignoring the lifts. The last thing he needed was to be in a small enclosed space with a bunch of noisy cadets. He felt like beating the hell out of something and going down the stairs helped disperse a little of that nervous energy. He’d left his office without a plan and even now his mind was spinning, trying to figure out where to start, who to begin with.
Pike paused as he exited the building, blinking at the dramatic change from the light-controlled interiors. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust in the afternoon glare. He eyed the spires of Starfleet Intelligence off three hundred meters to the east - no, the last thing he needed was for his two captives to be carted away and never heard from again.
‘Hey.’
He spun around in surprise at the sound of that familiar voice. ‘Winona,’ He said mildly, hiding his dismay - shit, not now. Winona Kirk smiled with indifference, leaning back against her hoverbike. Suddenly the image of that young man, “Jim”, collided with hers. Pike looked away briefly. ‘What are you still doing here?’ He asked, with not a little irritation. Telling her was not in the plan. Temporal Prime Directive applied here - and Pike felt a slight shock run through his body as he flashed back to the results from the DNA screens.
‘Chris, hey… look, um. Sorry, about that.’ She said with a slight smile, her hands hooked in her hip pockets. ‘Can we talk for a moment?’
Pike looked at her, wondering if she was onto him. The woman gave him a wry smiled, frowning in confusion as she shrugged, palms open towards him. ‘What?’ She drawled, one eyebrow lifting in confusion.
‘Sorry, Winona, but I’m on official business.’ And I don’t want to get you involved, Pike added silently.
‘Ah, well…’ She looked skywards in an exasperated gestured, ‘Sure, look I’ll be staying in the Green Wing, so look me up later tonight okay? I’m going to go see if I can catch Barnett.’
‘Sure,’ He said, smiling tightly in answer to the slight smile she wore.
‘Commander Pike?’
They stepped back from one another in surprise. Pike eyed the two security officers suspiciously, trying to figure out what they wanted. The collar of his uniform tightened a little. ‘Yes?’
‘Commander Pike,’ The female one, the Edosian, trilled softly, ‘We have a message for you from Starfleet Command, sir.’ Her head, bobbing high on that elongated neck, twitched slightly to the side to face the Commodore, ‘It is private, sir, Priority One seal… if you could come with us, please.’
The look on the face of the other security officer said it clearly; he was coming with them, whether he liked it or not. He felt the sweat collect uncomfortably down his back as his collar tightened just a little more. Pike glanced at Winona. He didn’t know if he was going to like this or not, but he had a gut instinct that it had something to do with the two guys in detention; even though he wished that he could get her opinion on it, it would just be easier if she kept out of it. ‘It was good to see you, Commodore.’ He murmured, ‘Excuse me.’
-------
In stationary position behind Charis: USS Enterprise, year 2246
Uhura took a deep breath of cool ventilated air as the ship’s transporter room appeared around her. Besides her, three members of security took equally deep breaths of relief. She caught the eyes of the female personnel and they shared a grin. Nurse Chapel and one of the doctors stood in front of the transporter pad, their medical tricorders chirping in light lilting tones as they were checked for the standard planet-side pathogens.
‘All clear,’ Nurse Chapel proclaimed.
She smiled at the woman and excused herself for a shower and a long nap. Thank goodness she wouldn’t be on bridge duty again till 0800 hours tomorrow shipboard time - the experience of trekking through a Vulcan town and back to collect samples had pretty much wiped her out. Not to mention their emotionally charged meeting with Lady Amanda, she thought morosely to herself. She had not seen Spock around but according to Sulu he was working on compiling the cultural archives. Good, Uhura thought firmly, she was the last person who would recommend work as a way to deal with emotional backlash but right here right now, Spock needed to hold on.
Oh, where is Kirk when you need him?
She gave a wry smile at her thoughts, which only seemed to consider Kirk when they were in a crisis. The man had a way with crisis situations - his usually infuriating attitude of taking everything lightly was an unexpected blessing during a crisis.
‘Miss Uhura, Miss Uhura!’
She turned around and smiled at the young Ensign running towards her at full speed, ‘Hey Chekov, what’s with the hurry?’
Bearing a PADD in one hand, and an empty mug of - she sniffed - coffee in the other, Pavel Chekov looked like he hadn’t slept in 72 hours and was grinning at her infectiously, wired from caffeine or sugar or quite possibly both. ‘Miss Uhura, I believe I can track the Romulan vessel! No, that’s not right, I mean!’ Chekov closed his eyes in frustration, fingers taking at his nose and mumbled something unintelligible under his breath, hitting his forehead, ‘No, no I mean I have a way of getting the Romulan vessel to find us! Yes!’
The Russian beamed at her, ‘We can make the Romulan vessel find us.’
-----------
Planet-side: Vulcan, Sarek’s estate, year 2246
Spock approached with wariness the doors which he had stood outside only a day’s cycle before. It was late afternoon, well past the time when visitations were to be expected (and indeed welcomed), but he had been unable to come any earlier. Nyota had been quite devious in her attempts to keep track of his activities, and conveniently disrupt them for her purposes; it was only by keeping her occupied with the task of properly cataloguing all the data discs they had collected in their archival effort that saved him from being followed. In the future Spock was quite certain that she would make an excellent intelligence officer.
Spock hefted the weighty paper-bound volume under his left arm, reminded of the purpose for this anomalous visitation. If others knew what he was doing, he suspected they would not approve, and yet Spock was certain that if given the chance to explain, the Captain would agree with him - Jim would agree with him. The time line had to be preserved, and while this was seemingly insignificant, perhaps even frivolous, it was… Spock brought the book before him and ran his right hand along the spine, which being held together via parchment-threading - an old Vulcan handicraft - had meant that the stitching on each was unique. And this book was without doubt the one Mother had given him, the pale blue twill used, the stitching done in the Flowing-Water pattern.
Ringing the archaic doorbell, Spock stepped back down to the lower landing to await a response. It came swifter than he expected, considering the late hour.
‘Yes, may I be of assistance?’ The female voice was soft-spoken and unexpected.
Spock blinked and quickly schooled his features to be neutral. Internally, he berated himself - Naomi! How could he forget her! She had been Father’s chief of staff from when he was young till after he left for Starfleet, when she finally left to take up a civilian liaison position at the Starfleet base on Vulcan. ‘Yes,’ He said, surprised at the sound of his own voice, steady and clear, ‘I am Seriyk, of the Department of Xenoculture, Vulcan sub-branch. Is Lady Amanda available?’
Sloe-eyed, Naomi examined him for a moment before replying with a business-like smile, ‘I’m terribly sorry, but she is not available for guests at the moment - would you like me to pass on a message?’
Spock inclined his head, ‘That would be-’ Disappointing, his mind whispered, ‘-acceptable.’ He slipped the anthology from beneath his desert cloak and placed it in the woman’s hands. Though he had hoped to give it to her, there was no logical reason for him to insist on personally delivering the item. ‘Please present this to Lady Amanda, with my thanks for her hospitality. Miss Uhura sends apologies for - for the family emergency.’
Not a complete lie, but certainly not the truth… Spock wondered if their mission could be considered a “family emergency” - perhaps, by a very broad definition. Naomi took the paper-bound book with the gentleness he had presented it, her eyes casually glancing at the title. The human gave him a probing look, her face as composed as he recalled. She was well-adapted to life on Vulcan, and in hindsight, it seemed perfectly logical that she had stayed till her death. At that thought, Spock felt a deep sadness - Naomi had been one of the many casualties in the destruction of Vulcan, having stayed behind to assist in evacuations till the very last moment.
‘I’ll be sure to give her your message, Seriyk.’ She paused, obviously holding herself back from interrogating him. ‘Is there any way which Lady Amanda may contact you?’
Spock shook his head, a sense of heaviness lifting off him. It was done. ‘Thank you but I require no -‘
‘Seriyk!’
The call was loud and high. Spock took a startled step back before his senses honed in on the source and he looked up. Naomi leaned out from the doorway, her neck craning to look up. Waving from generally unvisited portion of the upper terrace that circled the living areas, his mother smiled down at them.
‘Seriyk, what a surprise.’ The sight of her, awash in the warm orange light of the afternoon was… familiar. She held up a hand, waving slightly. ‘Oh, wait a moment. I’ll be right down.’
Spock nodded his assent and felt a flutter through him as she flashed him a quick smile. He realized with some discomfort that Naomi was watching him closely, curious as to his identity. As chief of staff, Naomi had been a constant in his life up to the time he had left Vulcan for Starfleet Academy, she was as familiar as family, and indeed, knew him well. Unlike Mother though, her duties meant that she was trained to remember names and faces, and to put them in the right context when it was required of her. If anyone were to recognize him through this flimsy disguise, it would be her.
She smiled, her brows furrowing in confusion, ‘Have we met before?’
Spock met the woman’s curious gaze, ‘Perhaps. I have been to several functions held here at the Ambassador’s Estate.’
‘I see…’ Naomi said, studying his features with her slender almost lazy-looking eyes.
With silent quick steps, Mother appeared in a simple grey twill robe - her casual clothing, Spock recognized, usually worn when she was in the middle of tending to her much-loved flowers. ‘Seriyk,’ she breathed, slightly winded from her swift descent, ‘What a surprise. I received the message regarding Miss Uhura,’ Mother fixed him with a look of genuine concern, ‘Is she alright?’
‘She is well and has left Vulcan.’ That was, Spock mused to himself, technically true; the Lieutenant was aboard the Enterprise stationed in stationary orbit behind Charis, coordinating the completion of their preservation effort, and considering services offered by neutral planets upon which to safely store their archive collection of Vulcan flora and fauna samples, and select cultural items of interest. ‘I am not at liberty to discuss her personal matters further. ’
Mother nodded, ‘Of course.’
He glanced away, unable to carry on this conversation though he knew that the silence was by human standards, unbearably awkward. Though purchasing the book had been part of his mission, this meeting was bordering on a Temporal Directive violation and could not be allowed to continue.
‘I have brought something, for you.’ He said, his words thick and stilted, ‘For - for your son.’
Naomi passed the paper-bound volume over to Mother. Her expression went from curiosity to one of genuine surprise. ‘Seriyk, you shouldn’t have.’ Her voice was quiet, but her small smile reassured her that he had not made the incorrect decision.
‘It seemed appropriate.’ He murmured, ‘I believe my Human colleagues would approve.’
Mother’s smile became wistful. ‘Thank you… well, then!’ Her tone lightened, ‘I must give you something in return.’
It was enough to risk being recognized, which would be considered a contamination of the timeline, but to actively influence and participate in events that could have wider impacts, was a definite violation of principles set forth in the Temporal Pride Directive. This was his cue to leave. ‘I mean no imposition -‘
‘Nonsense,’ His mother chided, her voice high and sharp; the sound of it was so familiar that it shocked him a temporary silence. She raised a finger and tapped the air thoughtfully, eyes narrowed in a grin. ‘I have just the thing- Oh please allow me to offer you some refreshment, the climb here must not have been easy. Naomi?’ His mother turned to the waiting chief of staff and gestured vaguely in the direction of what Spock knew was their kitchen, ‘Some water please.’
Naomi bowed her head to both of them as per Vulcan custom, slipped around his mother’s figure and disappeared into the house proper. Spock opened his mouth to protest but was unable to speak when his mother halted him with a hand, emphatically waving away whatever he might have said.
‘It’s no trouble at all, really, Seriyk. And yes I think I know exactly what to give you.’ With a bright smile and another thoughtful tap of a finger at him, Mother turned and swiftly disappeared, book clutched to her chest.
‘I insist, Lady Amanda!’ He said forcefully, as much as he dared in his current cover. Looking skyward, he gritted his teeth in a lapse of control and followed.
‘Lady Amanda?’ He passed the entrance to the public receiving room and startled Naomi who almost dropped her tray of drinks. A familiar wave of irritation came upon him along with all the requisite thoughts, full of childish vigor and ire: Mother, it is illogical to deny my request due to your insistences that I do not know myself, that is an emotional claim and I am- I am not showing my stiff upper lip - whatever that is! ‘I require no return of my gift. Your gratitude is more than an adequate response, as well as the knowledge of your son’s enjoyment. I am-‘ Spock froze in front the open doors to the wet-planet observatory. He had completely forgotten himself. This was not his home, he was a stranger and he should not have abandoned etiquette in coming in here uninvited.
Yet, for a moment he had forgotten. This… Spock glanced around at the succulents, the smooth volcanic stone and the impressionistic statue in the corner in the vague shape of a hominid sitting... this was all so familiar.
‘It is not as fancy as what you’ve given me, but I think you’ll like it.’
He turned abruptly at the sound of his mother’s voice. Slowly, he went to where she was and felt the immediate difference as he stepped into observatory from the courtyard. In comparison with the outdoors, it was humid and cool, causing Spock to shiver. She stood behind her work bench, gloves on, with a gleaming cerulean glazed pot to the side and her nursery rack to the side. With a small spade in hand, she deftly loosened one of the flowering plants from its home in the rack and transferred it to the old-fashioned pot. The image of her, doing this a hundred other times, passed before Spock’s eyes. With a smile, she delicately added several thimbles of various chemical mixtures including fertilizer, and then smoothed it down with her gloved hands, patting around the plant.
‘There,’ she pronounced with satisfaction, and stripping off the gardening gloves, held the pot up for his inspection, ‘Perfect.’
A miniature rose plant, the small flower buds pink and delicate and…
Spock received the pot stiffly as she thrust it before him. ‘Damask miniatures, a gift from the VSA, developed from my contribution of the species.’ She met his surprised gaze with a warm smile, ‘Was I too forward in presuming that you’ll appreciate it?’
The pot was cool to the touch, and the scent of the roses, was sweet and… Spock cleared his throat, ‘You are… too kind, thank you.’
Her smile grew. Suddenly his communicator chirped, startling him. Spock took a hissed breath, reminded of why he was here, the Enterprise, the mission that his Captain had charged him with, Jim’s trust in his ability to perform admirably despite his intimate knowledge of Spock’s weakness (how susceptible he was to becoming emotionally compromised, part of him muttered acerbically, despite having chosen the Vulcan path) and - he had to leave, now! ‘I apologize… but I cannot stay.’
There was a faint look of disappointment but then Mother smiled, understanding in her dark eyes. ‘Then I bid you farewell.’
With a curt nod, he turned and strode towards the door, bowing his head slightly as he passed Naomi who gave him a questioning look. Only outside the courtyard doors, did breathing become easier for him. He held the pot before him, uncertain of how to hold it, if he should keep it at all and… the communicator chirped again, startling him.
‘Seriyk.’
Spock paused at the sound of her voice. He turned slowly, apprehensive. Framed by the doorway, Mother held her hand up in the traditional Vulcan salute and smiled that cryptically amused smile characteristic of her, ‘Live long and Prosper.’
Holding up his hand, he bowed his head, ‘Peace and Long Life, Lady Amanda.’
‘I hope you’ll drop by sometime, to see my son… when he’s back.’
Spock met her eyes, and wondered how she was able to keep her emotions in check, to present oneself as composed, smiling, in sound mind. It was… it was strength that he did not have, had not had when he lost her, and was struggling to find now faced with her goodbye. Spock averted his eyes. He struggled to keep his face neutral and succeeded only in frowning. She waited for an answer.
‘Yes,’ He nodded curtly, ‘I shall look forwards to it. Fair day, Lady Amanda.’
Pivoting on his heel, Spock descended the stairs swiftly. When he was within a safe distance, he took out his communicator and flipped it open. ‘Spock to Enterprise, one to beam up.’
----
Planet-side: Earth, Starfleet Academy, year 2246
Commander Christopher Pike unlocked his office with a sense of foreboding, and surreptitiously shook his head at the yeomen to let them know that they weren’t to do anything rash. Letting the two officers inside, he covertly gestured for privacy; Naido gave a slight nod and the buzz at the front desk continued as normal. As soon as the door slid closed, the two officers immediately panned out, one going around to his desk and computer console, the other one riffling through the stack of datapads he had on-
‘HEY!’ Pike yelled. ‘What the hell do you think you are doing?’ Snatching back a datapad from the Edosian, he eyed the scramblers in their hands. ‘You said you had sealed orders - give them to me and get the hell out of my office.’
He didn’t have a reputation for being impatient, but he was going to tear someone a new one if they didn’t explain what the hell was going on. This was obviously an attempt by somebody to sabotage his efforts to approach a member of Command with his findings. The Edosian opened her mouth but then hesitated, glancing to the side at her companion.
‘Lieutenants,’ He said sharply, ‘Unless you give me those sealed orders right now, I will turn around and go back to what I was doing. I don’t take kindly to being interrupted without purpose.’
The two officers exchanged knowing looks. The Edosian female stepped forward and withdrew a mini-pad from her belt, ‘Your orders, sir.’
Eyeing the two officers with wariness, he took the small PADD and keyed in his code. Pike blinked at the display. The logo of Starfleet Intelligence flashed momentarily in blue and white, then A-R-C-H-E-R filled the screen before it went dark, automatically shutting down. No, no this was… Pike slowly met the eyes of the two officers. ‘I’m listening,’ He said tersely.
‘Any and all information pertaining to the two detainees is effective immediately the sealed property of Starfleet Intelligence, in keeping the Temporal Prime Directive as set forth by the Department of Temporal Investigations. Access to your computer would be appreciated, sir.’
Swallowing down his reflexive response, Pike walked stiffly over to his computer and unlocked it. The male officer sat down and withdrawing a bicorder, systematically copied all of his recordings and case notes, as well as the results from the labs. Within thirty seconds, all traces of his investigation into “Jim” and the man claiming to be Leonard McCoy were gone, wiped from his systems and therefore public record. The man gave him a slight nod, ‘Thank you for your cooperation, sir.’
Pike gritted his teeth and nodded back. There wasn’t any point to protesting. This was coming straight from the top. The Edosian withdrew something from her belt and held it out to him.
‘Your orders, sir…’
Glancing at her and then her partner to make sure that they weren’t joking, Pike took the paper envelope and tore it open. There was a note inside. Unfolding it, he scanned the contents and frowned. Looking up at the waiting officers, he shot them an un-amused smile. ‘This is the part where someone jumps out from behind my desk and shouts surprise.’
‘Starfleet needs your assistance, Commander Pike.’ The Edosian trilled, hand out for the sealed envelope. Pike handed it to her and watched as she destroyed it with a controlled blast from her phaser.
‘A certain admiral in Starfleet, in a certain branch of Starfleet that doesn’t need to be named, is counting on you, sir,’ the other security officer said quietly.
‘No doubt,’ Pike muttered in his driest voice, ‘-and this… certain admiral’s wish is our command - or rather my command.’
--------
Jim twisted round in his cot at the sound of his door opening, blinking blearily at the figure silhouetted in the doorway. He’d been sleeping, waiting for the 24-hour timer on the auto-beam they set up to kick in so he could get out of this place. He never had the pleasure of more than an hour or two at the Academy holding cells because Bones always caved and got him out, but he was going to have to buy the guy some Saurian brandy when they broke out because he never knew that the beds here had sucked so much!
‘Lights.’
He scrambled upright. It was Pike, who didn’t look happy. Well, Jim mentally drawled, that was an awfully familiar expression. The door closed but there was no electronic grind from the locking mechanism. He shot the man a confused look. What did he want? Another interrogation? His name? To scare him some more with stories about prison in New Zealand?
‘I believe you.’
Jim took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, ‘Okay, wow, unexpected.’
‘Get up.’ Pike said flatly, throwing him a cadet uniform, ‘You’re coming with me.’
‘Wait, are you breaking me out?’
Pike glared at him, ‘Shut up and get dressed.’
part ten
Rating: Teen (violence, language, adult themes)
Pairing: pre-slash nu!K/S, kid!K/S
Cast: ensemble, plus Pike, W. Kirk, A. Grayson, and nu!versions of TOS random crew
Keywords: long multi-part fic, kid!Spock, kid!Kirk, time travel, badass!crew, epic friendship
Notes: as a fill for this plotty PROMPT from the kink meme.... Spock sneaks out to talk to his mom, Chekov finally makes an appearance, while Pike gets orders from the top regarding his two mysterious detainees
This part had a lot of new scenes not in the original draft done in July-August 09
And OH - a wet-planet observatory is basically a greenhouse but instead of recreating tropical conditions, it recreates the conditions of a planet with a high moisture content, as opposed to Vulcan which is very, very dry. According to book canon, Spock's mom has one of these fancy observatories as she is quite the gardener.
BETA status - jademac2442 did picky, picky read thru karmic_fic suggested the new scenes - i played with it after the beta so if there's any issues, it's my fault
back to: part one / part two / part three / part four / part five / part six / part seven / part eight /
Planet-side: Vulcan, ShiKahr City, year 2246
Spock ascended the winding staircase carved directly from the rocks. It was a familiar path and led to the old Mahr-kel, built high upon this plateau, and had been in his youth, a preferred place of interest. He had fond memories of many languid late afternoons spent here with his parents when he had been very young, following them as they purchased scrolls and paper-bound books. The vendors here were some of the oldest and most respected in the whole ShiKahr and it would have been amiss of him to neglect a visit here. The reason for his visit, Spock admitted with ease, was rather personal, but it was also necessary; one of the mission objectives had been to collect samples and specimens from Vulcan, in preparation for the event that their mission would be a failure and -
Spock stopped abruptly, pivoting back around to face the sight. There was a display on political figures in the last two centuries at a familiar book vendor, in fact - yes. With some hesitation, he came closer and examined several volumes stacked along the middle shelf. It was an anthology of writings by several authors, including several well-known human historians… a biographical account of Ambassador Soval, with a particular focus on his contribution to relations with Earth and participation in the Council of Babel, the inception for the United Federation of Planets. It was… this book… Spock picked it thoughtfully.
My son has never read his works - I was planning on purchasing an anthology for him… a birthday present…
In his time line, he distinctively remembered the anthology being a gift from Mother, given on a day in that had not been significant by Vulcan or Earth’s calendar… he had returned from school, and it had been there, waiting for him upon his study desk. Spock ran a hand along the spine thoughtfully.
“Sulu to Spock. Come in please,” His communicator click-chirped insistently.
Spock put the book down as if he had been burnt and ducked into the alcove doorway of a closed music shop. Checking that no one was paying him attention, he flipped his communicator open. ‘Spock here. Report Lieutenant.’
Lieutenant Sulu’s voice was harsh through the small speakers, panting breaths distorting his words. “We’ve completed collecting the botanical samples in the first list, sir, and the second team has just beamed down.”
‘Excellent.’ He said, pleased that they were ahead of schedule. ‘Proceed with the rest of the collection.’
“Aye-aye sir - will you be returning to the ship, sir?”
Spock turned and gazed upon the book vendor. His purpose in coming here was to purchase certain works for archival purposes, and the anthology…‘Negative, Lieutenant. I am currently occupied with collecting Vulcan cultural artifacts.’
“Understood, sir, do you require any assistance?”
Spock was tempted for a moment to call for Nyota to join him, as her linguistic expertise would certainly be useful in this situation. But no, he reminded himself firmly that she was not cleared for away missions, and that she had joined him in the visit to his ancient home had been anomalous. Spock allowed himself a moment of reluctant gratitude. Yesterday, there had been a moment where his control had been… in need of assistance, which Nyota provided adequately but... no - he should do this alone. ‘Unnecessary, Lieutenant - please inform the transporters to be ready to beam items aboard upon my orders.’
“Yes sir, Sulu out.”
-------
Planet-side: Earth, Starfleet Academy, year 2246
Christopher Pike locked his office door and taking a deep measured breath, tucked the datapad securely under his arm. He wasn’t sure what this meant yet, the DNA matches, the physician who wasn’t where he was supposed to be, the young man named “Jim”, the Starfleet training but someone had to be told, the only problem was who.
The Bolian yeoman hurried over, his thick bushy eyebrows drawn in a frown. ‘Sir, there’s a -‘
‘Not now, Naido.’ Pike said tersely.
Reading his face, the yeoman gave a startled nod and got the hell out of his way.
Pike headed for the nearest stairs, ignoring the lifts. The last thing he needed was to be in a small enclosed space with a bunch of noisy cadets. He felt like beating the hell out of something and going down the stairs helped disperse a little of that nervous energy. He’d left his office without a plan and even now his mind was spinning, trying to figure out where to start, who to begin with.
Pike paused as he exited the building, blinking at the dramatic change from the light-controlled interiors. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust in the afternoon glare. He eyed the spires of Starfleet Intelligence off three hundred meters to the east - no, the last thing he needed was for his two captives to be carted away and never heard from again.
‘Hey.’
He spun around in surprise at the sound of that familiar voice. ‘Winona,’ He said mildly, hiding his dismay - shit, not now. Winona Kirk smiled with indifference, leaning back against her hoverbike. Suddenly the image of that young man, “Jim”, collided with hers. Pike looked away briefly. ‘What are you still doing here?’ He asked, with not a little irritation. Telling her was not in the plan. Temporal Prime Directive applied here - and Pike felt a slight shock run through his body as he flashed back to the results from the DNA screens.
‘Chris, hey… look, um. Sorry, about that.’ She said with a slight smile, her hands hooked in her hip pockets. ‘Can we talk for a moment?’
Pike looked at her, wondering if she was onto him. The woman gave him a wry smiled, frowning in confusion as she shrugged, palms open towards him. ‘What?’ She drawled, one eyebrow lifting in confusion.
‘Sorry, Winona, but I’m on official business.’ And I don’t want to get you involved, Pike added silently.
‘Ah, well…’ She looked skywards in an exasperated gestured, ‘Sure, look I’ll be staying in the Green Wing, so look me up later tonight okay? I’m going to go see if I can catch Barnett.’
‘Sure,’ He said, smiling tightly in answer to the slight smile she wore.
‘Commander Pike?’
They stepped back from one another in surprise. Pike eyed the two security officers suspiciously, trying to figure out what they wanted. The collar of his uniform tightened a little. ‘Yes?’
‘Commander Pike,’ The female one, the Edosian, trilled softly, ‘We have a message for you from Starfleet Command, sir.’ Her head, bobbing high on that elongated neck, twitched slightly to the side to face the Commodore, ‘It is private, sir, Priority One seal… if you could come with us, please.’
The look on the face of the other security officer said it clearly; he was coming with them, whether he liked it or not. He felt the sweat collect uncomfortably down his back as his collar tightened just a little more. Pike glanced at Winona. He didn’t know if he was going to like this or not, but he had a gut instinct that it had something to do with the two guys in detention; even though he wished that he could get her opinion on it, it would just be easier if she kept out of it. ‘It was good to see you, Commodore.’ He murmured, ‘Excuse me.’
-------
In stationary position behind Charis: USS Enterprise, year 2246
Uhura took a deep breath of cool ventilated air as the ship’s transporter room appeared around her. Besides her, three members of security took equally deep breaths of relief. She caught the eyes of the female personnel and they shared a grin. Nurse Chapel and one of the doctors stood in front of the transporter pad, their medical tricorders chirping in light lilting tones as they were checked for the standard planet-side pathogens.
‘All clear,’ Nurse Chapel proclaimed.
She smiled at the woman and excused herself for a shower and a long nap. Thank goodness she wouldn’t be on bridge duty again till 0800 hours tomorrow shipboard time - the experience of trekking through a Vulcan town and back to collect samples had pretty much wiped her out. Not to mention their emotionally charged meeting with Lady Amanda, she thought morosely to herself. She had not seen Spock around but according to Sulu he was working on compiling the cultural archives. Good, Uhura thought firmly, she was the last person who would recommend work as a way to deal with emotional backlash but right here right now, Spock needed to hold on.
Oh, where is Kirk when you need him?
She gave a wry smile at her thoughts, which only seemed to consider Kirk when they were in a crisis. The man had a way with crisis situations - his usually infuriating attitude of taking everything lightly was an unexpected blessing during a crisis.
‘Miss Uhura, Miss Uhura!’
She turned around and smiled at the young Ensign running towards her at full speed, ‘Hey Chekov, what’s with the hurry?’
Bearing a PADD in one hand, and an empty mug of - she sniffed - coffee in the other, Pavel Chekov looked like he hadn’t slept in 72 hours and was grinning at her infectiously, wired from caffeine or sugar or quite possibly both. ‘Miss Uhura, I believe I can track the Romulan vessel! No, that’s not right, I mean!’ Chekov closed his eyes in frustration, fingers taking at his nose and mumbled something unintelligible under his breath, hitting his forehead, ‘No, no I mean I have a way of getting the Romulan vessel to find us! Yes!’
The Russian beamed at her, ‘We can make the Romulan vessel find us.’
-----------
Planet-side: Vulcan, Sarek’s estate, year 2246
Spock approached with wariness the doors which he had stood outside only a day’s cycle before. It was late afternoon, well past the time when visitations were to be expected (and indeed welcomed), but he had been unable to come any earlier. Nyota had been quite devious in her attempts to keep track of his activities, and conveniently disrupt them for her purposes; it was only by keeping her occupied with the task of properly cataloguing all the data discs they had collected in their archival effort that saved him from being followed. In the future Spock was quite certain that she would make an excellent intelligence officer.
Spock hefted the weighty paper-bound volume under his left arm, reminded of the purpose for this anomalous visitation. If others knew what he was doing, he suspected they would not approve, and yet Spock was certain that if given the chance to explain, the Captain would agree with him - Jim would agree with him. The time line had to be preserved, and while this was seemingly insignificant, perhaps even frivolous, it was… Spock brought the book before him and ran his right hand along the spine, which being held together via parchment-threading - an old Vulcan handicraft - had meant that the stitching on each was unique. And this book was without doubt the one Mother had given him, the pale blue twill used, the stitching done in the Flowing-Water pattern.
Ringing the archaic doorbell, Spock stepped back down to the lower landing to await a response. It came swifter than he expected, considering the late hour.
‘Yes, may I be of assistance?’ The female voice was soft-spoken and unexpected.
Spock blinked and quickly schooled his features to be neutral. Internally, he berated himself - Naomi! How could he forget her! She had been Father’s chief of staff from when he was young till after he left for Starfleet, when she finally left to take up a civilian liaison position at the Starfleet base on Vulcan. ‘Yes,’ He said, surprised at the sound of his own voice, steady and clear, ‘I am Seriyk, of the Department of Xenoculture, Vulcan sub-branch. Is Lady Amanda available?’
Sloe-eyed, Naomi examined him for a moment before replying with a business-like smile, ‘I’m terribly sorry, but she is not available for guests at the moment - would you like me to pass on a message?’
Spock inclined his head, ‘That would be-’ Disappointing, his mind whispered, ‘-acceptable.’ He slipped the anthology from beneath his desert cloak and placed it in the woman’s hands. Though he had hoped to give it to her, there was no logical reason for him to insist on personally delivering the item. ‘Please present this to Lady Amanda, with my thanks for her hospitality. Miss Uhura sends apologies for - for the family emergency.’
Not a complete lie, but certainly not the truth… Spock wondered if their mission could be considered a “family emergency” - perhaps, by a very broad definition. Naomi took the paper-bound book with the gentleness he had presented it, her eyes casually glancing at the title. The human gave him a probing look, her face as composed as he recalled. She was well-adapted to life on Vulcan, and in hindsight, it seemed perfectly logical that she had stayed till her death. At that thought, Spock felt a deep sadness - Naomi had been one of the many casualties in the destruction of Vulcan, having stayed behind to assist in evacuations till the very last moment.
‘I’ll be sure to give her your message, Seriyk.’ She paused, obviously holding herself back from interrogating him. ‘Is there any way which Lady Amanda may contact you?’
Spock shook his head, a sense of heaviness lifting off him. It was done. ‘Thank you but I require no -‘
‘Seriyk!’
The call was loud and high. Spock took a startled step back before his senses honed in on the source and he looked up. Naomi leaned out from the doorway, her neck craning to look up. Waving from generally unvisited portion of the upper terrace that circled the living areas, his mother smiled down at them.
‘Seriyk, what a surprise.’ The sight of her, awash in the warm orange light of the afternoon was… familiar. She held up a hand, waving slightly. ‘Oh, wait a moment. I’ll be right down.’
Spock nodded his assent and felt a flutter through him as she flashed him a quick smile. He realized with some discomfort that Naomi was watching him closely, curious as to his identity. As chief of staff, Naomi had been a constant in his life up to the time he had left Vulcan for Starfleet Academy, she was as familiar as family, and indeed, knew him well. Unlike Mother though, her duties meant that she was trained to remember names and faces, and to put them in the right context when it was required of her. If anyone were to recognize him through this flimsy disguise, it would be her.
She smiled, her brows furrowing in confusion, ‘Have we met before?’
Spock met the woman’s curious gaze, ‘Perhaps. I have been to several functions held here at the Ambassador’s Estate.’
‘I see…’ Naomi said, studying his features with her slender almost lazy-looking eyes.
With silent quick steps, Mother appeared in a simple grey twill robe - her casual clothing, Spock recognized, usually worn when she was in the middle of tending to her much-loved flowers. ‘Seriyk,’ she breathed, slightly winded from her swift descent, ‘What a surprise. I received the message regarding Miss Uhura,’ Mother fixed him with a look of genuine concern, ‘Is she alright?’
‘She is well and has left Vulcan.’ That was, Spock mused to himself, technically true; the Lieutenant was aboard the Enterprise stationed in stationary orbit behind Charis, coordinating the completion of their preservation effort, and considering services offered by neutral planets upon which to safely store their archive collection of Vulcan flora and fauna samples, and select cultural items of interest. ‘I am not at liberty to discuss her personal matters further. ’
Mother nodded, ‘Of course.’
He glanced away, unable to carry on this conversation though he knew that the silence was by human standards, unbearably awkward. Though purchasing the book had been part of his mission, this meeting was bordering on a Temporal Directive violation and could not be allowed to continue.
‘I have brought something, for you.’ He said, his words thick and stilted, ‘For - for your son.’
Naomi passed the paper-bound volume over to Mother. Her expression went from curiosity to one of genuine surprise. ‘Seriyk, you shouldn’t have.’ Her voice was quiet, but her small smile reassured her that he had not made the incorrect decision.
‘It seemed appropriate.’ He murmured, ‘I believe my Human colleagues would approve.’
Mother’s smile became wistful. ‘Thank you… well, then!’ Her tone lightened, ‘I must give you something in return.’
It was enough to risk being recognized, which would be considered a contamination of the timeline, but to actively influence and participate in events that could have wider impacts, was a definite violation of principles set forth in the Temporal Pride Directive. This was his cue to leave. ‘I mean no imposition -‘
‘Nonsense,’ His mother chided, her voice high and sharp; the sound of it was so familiar that it shocked him a temporary silence. She raised a finger and tapped the air thoughtfully, eyes narrowed in a grin. ‘I have just the thing- Oh please allow me to offer you some refreshment, the climb here must not have been easy. Naomi?’ His mother turned to the waiting chief of staff and gestured vaguely in the direction of what Spock knew was their kitchen, ‘Some water please.’
Naomi bowed her head to both of them as per Vulcan custom, slipped around his mother’s figure and disappeared into the house proper. Spock opened his mouth to protest but was unable to speak when his mother halted him with a hand, emphatically waving away whatever he might have said.
‘It’s no trouble at all, really, Seriyk. And yes I think I know exactly what to give you.’ With a bright smile and another thoughtful tap of a finger at him, Mother turned and swiftly disappeared, book clutched to her chest.
‘I insist, Lady Amanda!’ He said forcefully, as much as he dared in his current cover. Looking skyward, he gritted his teeth in a lapse of control and followed.
‘Lady Amanda?’ He passed the entrance to the public receiving room and startled Naomi who almost dropped her tray of drinks. A familiar wave of irritation came upon him along with all the requisite thoughts, full of childish vigor and ire: Mother, it is illogical to deny my request due to your insistences that I do not know myself, that is an emotional claim and I am- I am not showing my stiff upper lip - whatever that is! ‘I require no return of my gift. Your gratitude is more than an adequate response, as well as the knowledge of your son’s enjoyment. I am-‘ Spock froze in front the open doors to the wet-planet observatory. He had completely forgotten himself. This was not his home, he was a stranger and he should not have abandoned etiquette in coming in here uninvited.
Yet, for a moment he had forgotten. This… Spock glanced around at the succulents, the smooth volcanic stone and the impressionistic statue in the corner in the vague shape of a hominid sitting... this was all so familiar.
‘It is not as fancy as what you’ve given me, but I think you’ll like it.’
He turned abruptly at the sound of his mother’s voice. Slowly, he went to where she was and felt the immediate difference as he stepped into observatory from the courtyard. In comparison with the outdoors, it was humid and cool, causing Spock to shiver. She stood behind her work bench, gloves on, with a gleaming cerulean glazed pot to the side and her nursery rack to the side. With a small spade in hand, she deftly loosened one of the flowering plants from its home in the rack and transferred it to the old-fashioned pot. The image of her, doing this a hundred other times, passed before Spock’s eyes. With a smile, she delicately added several thimbles of various chemical mixtures including fertilizer, and then smoothed it down with her gloved hands, patting around the plant.
‘There,’ she pronounced with satisfaction, and stripping off the gardening gloves, held the pot up for his inspection, ‘Perfect.’
A miniature rose plant, the small flower buds pink and delicate and…
Spock received the pot stiffly as she thrust it before him. ‘Damask miniatures, a gift from the VSA, developed from my contribution of the species.’ She met his surprised gaze with a warm smile, ‘Was I too forward in presuming that you’ll appreciate it?’
The pot was cool to the touch, and the scent of the roses, was sweet and… Spock cleared his throat, ‘You are… too kind, thank you.’
Her smile grew. Suddenly his communicator chirped, startling him. Spock took a hissed breath, reminded of why he was here, the Enterprise, the mission that his Captain had charged him with, Jim’s trust in his ability to perform admirably despite his intimate knowledge of Spock’s weakness (how susceptible he was to becoming emotionally compromised, part of him muttered acerbically, despite having chosen the Vulcan path) and - he had to leave, now! ‘I apologize… but I cannot stay.’
There was a faint look of disappointment but then Mother smiled, understanding in her dark eyes. ‘Then I bid you farewell.’
With a curt nod, he turned and strode towards the door, bowing his head slightly as he passed Naomi who gave him a questioning look. Only outside the courtyard doors, did breathing become easier for him. He held the pot before him, uncertain of how to hold it, if he should keep it at all and… the communicator chirped again, startling him.
‘Seriyk.’
Spock paused at the sound of her voice. He turned slowly, apprehensive. Framed by the doorway, Mother held her hand up in the traditional Vulcan salute and smiled that cryptically amused smile characteristic of her, ‘Live long and Prosper.’
Holding up his hand, he bowed his head, ‘Peace and Long Life, Lady Amanda.’
‘I hope you’ll drop by sometime, to see my son… when he’s back.’
Spock met her eyes, and wondered how she was able to keep her emotions in check, to present oneself as composed, smiling, in sound mind. It was… it was strength that he did not have, had not had when he lost her, and was struggling to find now faced with her goodbye. Spock averted his eyes. He struggled to keep his face neutral and succeeded only in frowning. She waited for an answer.
‘Yes,’ He nodded curtly, ‘I shall look forwards to it. Fair day, Lady Amanda.’
Pivoting on his heel, Spock descended the stairs swiftly. When he was within a safe distance, he took out his communicator and flipped it open. ‘Spock to Enterprise, one to beam up.’
----
Planet-side: Earth, Starfleet Academy, year 2246
Commander Christopher Pike unlocked his office with a sense of foreboding, and surreptitiously shook his head at the yeomen to let them know that they weren’t to do anything rash. Letting the two officers inside, he covertly gestured for privacy; Naido gave a slight nod and the buzz at the front desk continued as normal. As soon as the door slid closed, the two officers immediately panned out, one going around to his desk and computer console, the other one riffling through the stack of datapads he had on-
‘HEY!’ Pike yelled. ‘What the hell do you think you are doing?’ Snatching back a datapad from the Edosian, he eyed the scramblers in their hands. ‘You said you had sealed orders - give them to me and get the hell out of my office.’
He didn’t have a reputation for being impatient, but he was going to tear someone a new one if they didn’t explain what the hell was going on. This was obviously an attempt by somebody to sabotage his efforts to approach a member of Command with his findings. The Edosian opened her mouth but then hesitated, glancing to the side at her companion.
‘Lieutenants,’ He said sharply, ‘Unless you give me those sealed orders right now, I will turn around and go back to what I was doing. I don’t take kindly to being interrupted without purpose.’
The two officers exchanged knowing looks. The Edosian female stepped forward and withdrew a mini-pad from her belt, ‘Your orders, sir.’
Eyeing the two officers with wariness, he took the small PADD and keyed in his code. Pike blinked at the display. The logo of Starfleet Intelligence flashed momentarily in blue and white, then A-R-C-H-E-R filled the screen before it went dark, automatically shutting down. No, no this was… Pike slowly met the eyes of the two officers. ‘I’m listening,’ He said tersely.
‘Any and all information pertaining to the two detainees is effective immediately the sealed property of Starfleet Intelligence, in keeping the Temporal Prime Directive as set forth by the Department of Temporal Investigations. Access to your computer would be appreciated, sir.’
Swallowing down his reflexive response, Pike walked stiffly over to his computer and unlocked it. The male officer sat down and withdrawing a bicorder, systematically copied all of his recordings and case notes, as well as the results from the labs. Within thirty seconds, all traces of his investigation into “Jim” and the man claiming to be Leonard McCoy were gone, wiped from his systems and therefore public record. The man gave him a slight nod, ‘Thank you for your cooperation, sir.’
Pike gritted his teeth and nodded back. There wasn’t any point to protesting. This was coming straight from the top. The Edosian withdrew something from her belt and held it out to him.
‘Your orders, sir…’
Glancing at her and then her partner to make sure that they weren’t joking, Pike took the paper envelope and tore it open. There was a note inside. Unfolding it, he scanned the contents and frowned. Looking up at the waiting officers, he shot them an un-amused smile. ‘This is the part where someone jumps out from behind my desk and shouts surprise.’
‘Starfleet needs your assistance, Commander Pike.’ The Edosian trilled, hand out for the sealed envelope. Pike handed it to her and watched as she destroyed it with a controlled blast from her phaser.
‘A certain admiral in Starfleet, in a certain branch of Starfleet that doesn’t need to be named, is counting on you, sir,’ the other security officer said quietly.
‘No doubt,’ Pike muttered in his driest voice, ‘-and this… certain admiral’s wish is our command - or rather my command.’
--------
Jim twisted round in his cot at the sound of his door opening, blinking blearily at the figure silhouetted in the doorway. He’d been sleeping, waiting for the 24-hour timer on the auto-beam they set up to kick in so he could get out of this place. He never had the pleasure of more than an hour or two at the Academy holding cells because Bones always caved and got him out, but he was going to have to buy the guy some Saurian brandy when they broke out because he never knew that the beds here had sucked so much!
‘Lights.’
He scrambled upright. It was Pike, who didn’t look happy. Well, Jim mentally drawled, that was an awfully familiar expression. The door closed but there was no electronic grind from the locking mechanism. He shot the man a confused look. What did he want? Another interrogation? His name? To scare him some more with stories about prison in New Zealand?
‘I believe you.’
Jim took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, ‘Okay, wow, unexpected.’
‘Get up.’ Pike said flatly, throwing him a cadet uniform, ‘You’re coming with me.’
‘Wait, are you breaking me out?’
Pike glared at him, ‘Shut up and get dressed.’
part ten